Chapter 15 Diantha
Diantha
Absolutely no time to think about the fact that I just had sex with a vampire in public.
None!
No time to think about how everyone can probably smell the lust, orgasm, and vague shame radiating from me like stink lines off Pig-Pen. And definitely, definitely no time to think about how Orfeo doesn’t seem quite like other vampires.
He’s gentle, sweet, devoted.
And gorgeous.
No. No time at all.
He pulls me through the first floor of the club where a few different men sit, locked in conversation with vampires, splayed out over cheap white couches that look like they fell off a truck on their way to Las Vegas.
They’re all coupled up in nuzzling, whispering poses, and it doesn’t take me long to understand that these vampires are not like Orfeo.
In fact, none of them even seem to look like each other.
Some have the type of deathly pallor you expect from a nocturnal creature; others have taken on a green or blue tinge in a range of depths. Others look nearly human.
I spot one vampire with long fangs that have been filed into exaggerated points and another duo with full sets of razor-sharp teeth.
A gorgeous vampire with waist-length braids and deep brown skin patrols the room in a pair of short shorts, a tuxedo shirt, and a cravat, playfully swatting her left hand with a paddle.
She’s clearly meant to be some sort of security without ruining the mood.
“Hey, Fee.” Her voice is the definition of sexy, all deep and smooth. She holds out a fist for Orfeo to pound.
“Ciao, Misha.” He presses his fist to hers then leans over and kisses her cheek. Before I have a chance to roll my tongue back into my mouth and introduce myself, Orfeo’s pulling me up the narrow staircase that leads to the second floor.
Up here, EDM thuds over the sound system, causing my teeth to vibrate in my skull.
On one side of the room, there’s an elevated platform where vampires move to the music, contorting around a set of poles.
Orfeo leans in, his lips skimming my ear, and tells me they’re a renowned dance troupe from Berlin.
One of the vampires—waifish and slender with pale blue skin—grips the pole with their inner thighs while bending backward to grasp their six-inch heels.
The club lights catch on their fangs, which look too long to not be painful. They descend slowly in their contorted crescent shape before spinning out of the pose and landing in a violent split. The humans and demons watching hoot and whistle, sending a shower of dollar bills onto the stage.
On the other side of the room…
Well, it’s hard to understand what’s going on over there.
Through the flashing lights and otherwise complete darkness, I make out writhing, half-naked bodies moving in total discord.
It’s like watching the ocean trying to drown itself.
Some bodies look human while others look supernatural.
Tongues tangle together outside of mouths, hands grab and feel and yank mercilessly.
I spot one man’s still-bleeding neck on full display while he dances and sips a cocktail.
Through the chaos, someone catches my eye—a familiar sparse hairline and red nose. But instead of wearing his usual pair of ill-fitting trousers and sweater vest, he’s in a dog collar. Spiked, no less!
“Oh my god.” I grip Orfeo’s arm and try to yank him back. “That’s Bowen.”
Orfeo furrows his brow and squints at the crowd. “Professor Bowen? Where?”
“There!” I point discreetly toward his pale, exposed back.
Bowen chooses that moment to shift into the flashing blue-purple lights.
Suddenly, a masc vampire appears at his waist, popping up like a groundhog with their long, blue tongue traveling up from Bowen’s waistline, up over the swell of his belly, and I watch my professor’s head drop back in pleasure.
I gasp and spin away, covering my eyes. “Fuck! Never mind! Oh my god. Run.”
Orfeo laughs as I shove at him, grabbing my hand again and dragging me to the other side of the club to what looks like a series of dressing rooms lined up along the wall, to the left of the stage.
Underneath the doors, I can make out feet pointing in all sorts of directions. Orfeo pulls me into one of the booths.
Thankfully, the music is nothing more than a distant thump in here.
Unfortunately, the patrons of the booth next to us seem to be having a very good and very wet time.
The booth is lit by a small reading lamp on a table, and there’s only a single seat. Orfeo tells me to sit before descending into a squat so we’re almost face-to-face.
Even in this light, his beauty shocks me. The strength of his features, the suppleness of his lips. The intensity of those yellow eyes. There’s nothing quite as gorgeous as the sight of his eyes glowing between my thighs. The memory makes me shiver.
“Okay, we don’t have much time. Leo should be off duty by now. I am going to slip out front to speak to him. I need you to follow me, with just your spirit. You will be safe in here, no one will try to open the door as long as they see your feet.”
“I don’t know if I can do that?”
“Why?”
I avert my eyes. “Uh, well, every time I’ve been in or around Hades House while I’m decoupled, I make some sort of…mistake.”
A small smile creeps over his face. “Like what?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Accidentally flickering lights, breaking bottles.”
“So that was you the other night?”
“What other night?” I say, but I know my expression is betraying me. I swat at Orfeo. “Oh, shut up. Like you’ve never been somewhere you weren’t supposed to be.”
He laughs softly, leaning forward and hooking his finger under my chin.
His touch is electric—so decisive yet gentle.
He tilts my face up. “This is very, very important. You need to hear everything I say to Leo. I’m going to move as quickly as I can to get downstairs.
We’ll be by the front door, but if we have to move, follow me as best you can.
If you feel like you can’t take it anymore, just extinguish the lights out front.
When you do that, I’ll stop our conversation and come upstairs immediately. Okay?”
I nod. Then, he lowers his mouth to mine. For a single, breathless moment, we kiss.
Orfeo makes his way out of the booth and I lock the door behind him. I take a few steadying breaths, shake off my nerves, and settle back onto the seat.
I tap into the well of my power and unleash my extra sense.
It comes undone, unwinding like a silk ribbon in my stomach.
Cold and quick. The tingles in my extremities start, turning into a burn that builds and builds.
Meanwhile, I focus my thoughts, blocking out all the noise around me and rendering my destination as best as I can in my mind’s eye.
The portico with its gingerbread trim.
The gas lamp sconces.
The blistering cold night air.
The edges of my consciousness warble, buckling under the weight of the supernatural forces around me. I brace down on myself, sucking in a deep breath. I focus my energy, collapse it into a single beam of power.
The smell of the river.
Leo’s broad frame.
Orfeo’s face.
I feel it. The pulling, the tearing, the lift off, and…
“You know I am in debt to Alfo,” Orfeo says, his voice foggy and distant. I try to steady myself, but my spirit sways like an unmoored boat.
“Nis only brings it up every fucking night,” Leo replies. His voice is stronger, closer.
“Right, well. It’s important that you know what kind of debt I am in. Maybe it’ll help you understand my perspective a little bit more.” Orfeo slides the cigarette out from behind his ear.
“I became a vampire in nineteen seventy-six when I was eighteen years old. At the time, I was addicted to drugs, living in a squat, and stealing car radios to make a living.” He taps the faint, thin scar through his eyebrow.
“This was once a wound so deep and so big that it almost ended my life. After that accident, I became even more reckless.”
Leo snorts, shakes his head. “Jesus.”
Orfeo flashes a rueful smile. “One night, after a party on the banks of the Tiber River, I was drunk and high, trying to get myself and my friend Davìd home. I remember almost nothing from that evening. As hard as I try to dredge up those memories, I find nothing. But it was reported that my motorino collided directly into the back of a car. Davìd was riding behind me.”
Leo’s features twitch with imagined pain. “No helmets?”
“Obviously,” Orfeo replies, bitterness thick on his voice.
“I’m sure I was comatose almost immediately.
When I came to, I was in the arms of a man…
a beautiful man. Unlike anyone I’d ever seen.
White, straight teeth. Thick blond hair.
I’d never been intimate with a man before.
I’d never even thought about it. But there he was, over me, kissing me… ”
I brace against the surge of anger that rips through me. The streetlamp across from Hades House flares, then dims.
“That was my creator, Paolo. Davìd was there too. Dead as anything. His skull…It was like a smashed apple. I remember sobbing. Then, Paolo found a spark of life.” Orfeo’s mouth twists into a cold smile.
“For a moment, a brief time, Paolo loved us. His new toys. And I thought being in his coterie was better than heaven.”
“Vampires are sick that way,” Leo says. He’s stopped smoking his cigarette. It hangs limp in his fingers at his side.
Orfeo laughs. “You know, it’s not normal for a coterie to hate their creator? Even when they are being abused. It is against our very nature. Your creator is everything—a father, a mother, a lover, a god.”
His features twist, moisture jumping into his eyes. Gathering in dark, inky pools. I ache with the desire to reach out to him, to pull him to me.